“I haven’t done this for a long time,” she said without looking up.
“That’s okay,” he told her. “It’s been a while for me, too.”
“No, Jonas, you don’t understand. I haven’t done this for a
long, long time.
”
“Zoey, it’s all—”
“Not since I was a teenager,” she continued, her face still buried in her hands. “It’s been almost twenty years.”
Jonas assured himself he must have misunderstood what she said. A single woman in her late thirties, especially one as worldly as Zoey, must have had a string of lovers in her time. Right?
“You’re not serious,” he said with an anxious laugh. He hadn’t meant to laugh. It had just come out. What she was implying was just so incredible. Big, tough Zoey Holland, out of the loop for nearly twenty years? It was just too hard to believe. “You’re not honestly trying to tell me you haven’t been with a man in that length of time,” he clarified. When she didn’t reply, but continued to stand with her head in her hands, he asked further, “Are you?”
She dropped her hands to her sides and raised her head to look at him. Jonas was shocked to see that her eyes were wet and red-rimmed. When she sniffled and scrubbed a finger under her nose, two fat tears tumbled down her cheeks, and he felt as if someone had just kicked him hard in the stomach. He’d never seen Zoey cry. She was too strong, too self-assured, too macho. Until now, he would have sworn she was incapable of such a display.
“Sorry, doc, but that’s exactly what I’m telling you. I haven’t been with a man in so long, I’m not sure I can even remember what goes where. Pretty scary, huh?”
“Pretty incredible is more like it.”
Again, he’d spoken without thinking and, too late, acknowledged his mistake. She was serious, he realized. And she was telling him the truth. Somehow he knew that with every cell in his body.
She nodded resolutely and wiped her palms over her cheeks to erase the trail of tears. “Yeah, well, I guess I was right the first time, then, wasn’t I?” she said coolly.
It was amazing, Jonas thought, how quickly and completely she could hide what she was really feeling. “Right about what?” he asked.
“About you being like other guys.”
He shook his head to deny the charge, but Zoey turned away.
“Excuse me,” she said as she began to fumble with her buttons once again. “But it’s getting late, and I’m really tired. I’ll check on Jules on my way to bed. Don’t worry about her. And don’t worry about me, either.”
Easier said than done, Jonas thought as he watched her leave. Because the more he learned about Zoey, the less he knew her. And suddenly, getting to know Zoey, the real Zoey, the one he’d only glimpsed for a brief moment here and there, became more important than anything else in his life.
Two weeks, he told himself. He had two weeks to figure her out. He assured himself it would be more than enough.
Then he remembered that haunted, fearful look in her eyes, recalled the two solitary tears she had allowed to escape. And somehow, he wondered if even Zoey knew who she really was inside.
A
s she pushed Juliana’s stroller along King’s Highway in Haddonfield, Zoey marveled again at her confession of the night before. Why on earth had she told Jonas about the length of time that had passed since her last sexual encounter? she wondered for perhaps the hundredth time. She’d never revealed that to anyone before—not Cooper, not even Livy and Sylvie.
She supposed all that was about to change, however. The hospital grapevine was an awesome thing—rivaling even fax technology as the fastest way in the world to send information. By the end of the week, everyone at Seton General would know about her condition. And then she’d really become a target. Every jerk male in the east wing would be hitting on her, to see if he could be the first man to get back into Zoey Holland’s pants, the one guy who could make her change her mind about abstinence.
Abstinence, nothing, she thought as a flutter of apprehension flickered to life in her midsection. Abstinence suggested a well-thought-out willingness to avoid sex. What she had, she conceded reluctantly, was a bad case of fear. Jonas had been right about that, at least, she had to admit now.
He had avoided her quite capably that morning when she’d come downstairs to pour herself a cup of coffee. Granted, she had timed her arrival in the kitchen so that he would be allowed scarcely a minute to linger lest he be late for work, but he hadn’t even dawdled for a minute. Instead, he’d spared one quick glimpse for her wrinkled pajamas and messy hair, had gulped whatever was left in his mug and had brushed by her with a hastily muttered comment about helping herself to coffee. Then he’d grabbed his coat and briefcase and headed out the door as if he were being chased by a man-eating tiger.
Zoey sighed helplessly as she recalled the expression on his face when he’d looked at her—one that indicated he had no idea how to approach her. She was an oddity, she supposed—a mature, modern woman who hadn’t a clue about current sexual relations. No doubt Jonas was wondering now if she’d be worth the effort. Frankly, she couldn’t blame him. She probably
wasn’t
worth the effort.
Hoping a little fresh air and good conversation would ease her mind, she had dressed in jeans and a thick, oversize green sweater, bundled up Juliana and telephoned Livy and Sylvie to invite them to lunch. Then she and the baby had headed out into the surprisingly mild morning. There was no evidence of the previous evening’s light snowfall—the temperature had risen well into the fifties, and the bright sun made it feel even warmer. Almost automatically, she had pointed the stroller toward Haddonfield, hoping the brick sidewalks and quaint old shops would distract her from replaying last night’s debacle over and over in her brain.
Unfortunately, she supposed she’d never quite forget the way Jonas had laughed at her when she’d told him she hadn’t been with a man in almost two decades.
She closed her eyes in an effort to chase away the memory of the tinny-sounding chuckle, but to no avail. When she opened them again, a display in a travel agency caught her attention, and she paused to stare wistfully at an advertisement for a cruise ship. Wouldn’t it be nice if she could just sail away? she thought. Pack up her troubles and drift off into the sunset without another care in the world?
Juliana cooed and laughed in the stroller, and Zoey looked down to smile back.
“Don’t worry, sweetie, I’d pack you up and take you with me,” she said to the baby. “I certainly couldn’t leave you behind.”
The truth in the statement startled her. In a few short days, she’d become more connected to Juliana than she had thought possible. Why this development had occurred was a mystery. Zoey worked around babies every day, but she’d never become so entranced by one that it broke her heart to think about saying goodbye. That was what she loved about working in the hospital nursery. She could be around babies, but never long enough to get too attached to them. It never hurt when they had to leave her.
Yet she knew when her two weeks with Jules came to an end, the baby’s absence would leave a little vacant place inside her that wouldn’t easily be filled. She was fast growing to love Juliana. Really, truly love her. It would be more than a little difficult to say goodbye when the time came. The thought alone was enough to trouble her.
Even more difficult, she thought, would be saying goodbye to Jonas. Because he, too, had become entrenched pretty deeply inside of her in a short time. He’d come to occupy a big space in her heart where she would have sworn no man would ever reside. She was still mystified by why he should be the one to rouse her in a way no man had ever been able to before, but she couldn’t deny her attraction to him any longer.
She wondered if perhaps that was why she’d resented him since his arrival at Seton General. Because perhaps deep down, she had felt an odd, immediate desire for him that she’d held for no other man before. Maybe all these months of telling herself she hated him had been an unconscious attempt to protect herself from getting hurt. Unfortunately, she hadn’t quite been able to convince herself he was as awful as she tried to make him out. And now that she’d been up close and personal with him, it was impossible for her to continue with the charade. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could fight her feelings.
“As if it makes any difference,” she said to Juliana, setting the stroller into forward motion as she continued with their walk. “Whether I fight my feelings or not, Jonas isn’t going to care.”
Juliana squealed happily, then smiled at the sound she made. Zoey couldn’t help but laugh.
“You’re not helping matters, kiddo,” she said. “The cuter you are, the tougher this whole thing becomes. It’s bad enough that I’m getting tangled up with your uncle. I don’t have any business getting tangled up with you, too.”
Juliana uttered a coo that sounded suspiciously like, “Oh yeah?” and Zoey chuckled again.
“Lunch,” she told the baby meaningfully. “Let’s go to Clemente’s and have some lunch. Maybe Sylvie and Livy can shed a little light on this matter.”
* * *
The following Friday night, Jonas worked late. Again. He had worked late every night that week, slumping home at well past the dinner hour with the full knowledge that Zoey would have to rush home herself if she wanted to get any sleep before pulling her shift at the hospital.
And as much as he wished the reason for his diligence at work was simply a profound professional devotion, he couldn’t deny that his late nights at the hospital were instead a direct result of trying his damnedest to avoid Zoey. He simply hadn’t been able to get Monday night out of his head, hadn’t quite come to terms with what she had told him.
Twenty years. Zoey Holland hadn’t been with a man for almost twenty years. The revelation amazed him still.
He told himself there must be something wrong with her. What healthy, normal, mentally well-adjusted adult in her thirties would shun sexual activity in this day and age? Zoey was a beautiful, intelligent, assertive woman. There must have been dozens of men in her life who had been more than willing to make love to her. No, if she had been avoiding a sexual relationship, it was because
she
had been the one to make that choice. But why? What was the big deal about sex, anyway?
Everybody
had sex. So what was Zoey’s problem?
There had to be something wrong with her, he thought again. Some deep-seated Freudian
something
that kept her from being a healthy, normal, mentally well-adjusted adult. So why was he still so fascinated by her? Even if something more substantial did blossom between them—something of, say, a sexual nature—he told himself the end result would no doubt be a major disappointment. She’d be shy, inhibited and awkward, more than likely having forgotten how to please a man. She wouldn’t have a clue how to perform, and he’d wind up having to do all the work himself. It would be an empty, frustrating experience.
Nevertheless, he couldn’t quite rid himself of the thrill of excitement that shimmied through him when he thought about being the one who brought her back to the fold.
“It won’t happen,” he told his reflection in the rearview mirror as he pulled his car into the driveway at half past ten. “It will never, ever happen.”
The house was silent when he entered it. He shrugged off his coat and hung it in the foyer closet, tossed his keys onto a table and went in search of Zoey and Jules. Jules, he marveled with a silent shake of his head. Now Zoey even had
him
calling the baby by that ridiculous nickname.
He found the two females in question in the den. Zoey lay stretched out on her back on his sofa, sound asleep. The baby was lying atop her, stomach to stomach, cheek to chest, equally lost in slumber. Jonas smiled in spite of himself. Juliana wore a pink sleeper decorated with cavorting bunnies. Zoey had on her standard blue jeans and a tattered lavender sweatshirt. She had kicked off her boots and wore thick, woolen socks. They were the same kind of socks she had worn with her flannel pajamas Monday night, and the reminder of that evening made his heart pound a little more erratically than it was already.
He was thinking about her breast again. About the way her pajama top had fallen open for one solitary moment to expose that exquisite example of perfect beauty. Long enough to let him know what he was missing, he realized with a suppressed sigh of frustration. Long enough to make him want her for the rest of his life.
As quietly as he could, he approached the dozing duo, lifting Juliana as carefully as he could from Zoey’s embrace. Both of them stirred as he did so, Juliana only momentarily, Zoey a little longer. Her arms fell reluctantly away, and she murmured some soft protest in her sleep. But she didn’t quite wake up. Amazingly enough, Juliana, too, slept on peacefully.
Zoey had worked wonders with the baby in one short week, he thought as he carried the slumbering infant up to her nursery to tuck her into her crib. And even though she still wasn’t sleeping through the night, she no longer awoke screaming in two-hour intervals. She continued to have occasional bouts of fussiness, but the howling, which he had begun to think would never leave her, had abated. Slowly, finally, he was growing accustomed to having a baby in his home. And slowly, finally, his life with Juliana was beginning to slip into some kind of vague routine.
A routine that included Zoey Holland, he realized reluctantly. Any semblance of order he had managed to develop in his life was there as a result of her efforts. And she would only be with him and Juliana for another week. What were they going to do when she was gone? he wondered. What was
he
going to do?
He returned to the den to find the woman to whom he owed so much still sleeping soundly. God, she must be exhausted, he thought. He’d been coming home late enough every evening that there was no way she could have been getting more than a few hours of sleep a night. Even less than that on those nights she’d spent at his house taking care of Juliana. He suddenly felt like a heel for keeping her from her rest. He above anyone knew how debilitating it was to go without sleep.
Not having the heart to rouse her, he pulled a heavy cotton throw from the back of a chair and draped it over her. He was tucking it up under her chin, being careful not to awaken her, when she did just that. Her eyes fluttered open, widened when she saw who was tending to her, then narrowed in what Jonas couldn’t decide was curiosity or apprehension. Probably a little of both, he finally concluded. Heaven knew he’d done nothing this week that might inspire her to feel anything else for him.
“You’re awake,” he said softly.
“You’re home,” she remarked at the same time.
Both of them chuckled, realizing the superfluousness of their statements in light of the obvious.
“I’m sorry I’m late again,” he apologized. “But a meeting ran long, then something came up in cardiology, and—”
“Don’t worry about it,” she interrupted sleepily. She sighed, pulling her hand out from beneath the throw to swipe it slowly over her face. “I don’t have to work tonight, remember? I started my weekend when I got off this morning.” She glanced at her watch. “But I really should get going. It’s late.”
Her face was rosy from sleep, and she’d messed up her hair when she ran her hand through her bangs. Her green eyes were dreamy and soft, and she suddenly seemed approachable in a way she’d never been to Jonas before. Far too approachable for his peace of mind.
“Why don’t you stay here tonight?” he asked, the words out of his mouth before he realized he’d planned to say them. “It’s freezing rain outside,” he rushed on, pretending that was the reason for his invitation, “and they’re predicting it will be mixed with snow before eleven. You’re obviously exhausted, so it could be treacherous trying to get home. I almost didn’t make it into the driveway myself.”
For a moment, he thought she was going to agree to his suggestion, but she never opened her mouth to do so. Instead, she looked at him kind of funny, almost as if she were grateful to him for something.
“Why didn’t you tell anyone at the hospital about me?” she finally asked him.
It took a moment for him to figure out what she meant. When he did, so taken aback was he by the question that he dropped to sit on the sofa beside her. Then, for some reason feeling suddenly and inexplicably devilish, he stretched one arm across her to rest it on the back of the sofa. “How do you know I didn’t?” he asked her softly.
She was clearly unshaken by his question. “Because it would have gotten back to me by now if you had.”
He studied her acutely, wondering how she could even ask him something like that. “Why would I go out of my way to tell anyone at work about your sex life—or lack thereof?”
“Because most men would.”
“Then you obviously don’t know me at all. I’m not most men.”
She shrugged and looked away, squirming visibly beneath the cover. “Maybe I don’t,” she conceded.
It was the first time he could ever remember her admitting that she might have been wrong about something. And the fact that her admitted mistake involved her feelings toward him made Jonas feel a little giddy inside. Without thinking, he dropped the hand he had settled on the back of the sofa to Zoey’s waist, skimming his fingers lightly over the throw until he had her loosely penned in. He knew he was asking for trouble, knew he might be setting himself up for another swift knee to the groin. But something in her expression made him willing to take the risk.